


Painting Greys

by GoThruTheStars



Category: Hockey RPF, NHL - Fandom, national hockey league - Fandom
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, M/M, Sharpie is not prepared to deal with this particular type of bullshit, Tylers a sleepy bunny, dunno what happened, jamie's trying, jordie is the best of bros, like cotton candy, pevs is a dad 24/7, the first two are fluff, this gets really angsty really fast, tylers just rolling with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14728046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoThruTheStars/pseuds/GoThruTheStars
Summary: Tyler is a really energetic guy. Until he isn’t.Or the five plus one where Tyler either falls asleep on a teammate, or needs help doing so.





	Painting Greys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alliemackenzie28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliemackenzie28/gifts).



> These start off casual and get more and more serious and like sorry not sorry.
> 
> Also we’re gonna pretend that Pevs played in 2015, mostly because I like him at the end and I don’t wanna change it.

\------------------------1 - Jamie and Jordie------------------------

 

“But I don’t wannaaaaaaa.” Tyler whines, head and arms dramatically splayed on the island countertop, an interesting feat since he’s sitting on one of the stools that are a little too high for bar island thing. Jordie laughs from his seat next their new teammate, and Jamie manages to shoot him an unamused look while also putting pasta into a container.

Dinner had been good. Jamie can’t claim he knows what it’s like to be traded, but he knew he was in line to be Captain next, and, well, management basically told him to keep an eye on him anyway. Besides, he’s nothing like what the media made him out to be (and even then, winning the cup at nineteen and playing for a original six team is bound to fuck with your head).

“You gotta go back some time there bud. It’s like, three in the morning Boston time right?”

Jamie freezes for a second, and out of the corner of his eye he catches Jordie wince as his words. He quickly resumes putting the leftovers away though, hoping the white noise smoothes the tension. Tyler doesn’t answer, and Jamie has half a mind to throw something as his brother for bringing up his old team so soon after the trade.

“How’d you get here anyway?” Jamie asks, speaking way to fast to be casual. It’s a stupid question, but it was all his brain could think off, especially because he knows Tyler doesn’t have a car yet and they talking about him having to go back to the hotel and okay Jamie's bad at this whole social thing, glad they’re establishing this early.

Silence meets his question, and Jamie is worried now that they really pissed him off or something. He turns away from the fridge to look at him, an apology ready on his lips, and instead finds Jordie staring incredulously at Tyler, who’s still half lying on the granite countertop.

“Tyler?” Jamie calls, and their newest teammate doesn’t even stir. “Um.” He looks at his brother.

“Did he seriously just…” Jordie is nodding before he can finish, a hand over his mouth to hold in laughter.

“Well, I guess he’s staying here tonight.” Jord says gleefully slipping off his stool and walking to the other side of the kitchen, gently extricating Ty’s half finished beer from his hand and dumping it down the sink. Jamie glares, and Jordie just chuckles louder.

“Shut up idiot you’ll wake him up.”

“Hate to break it to you chubbs, but unless you were planning on letting him sleep like that, we’re gonna have to wake him up.” Jamie blinks, then tilts his head the side, casting a critical gaze over the way Tyler is positioned.

“Or…”

Getting him to the couch is a whole event, but it somehow happens without any signs of life from Segs, and without injury to any persons involved. Jamie’s a little concerned about him to be honest, because between the two of them they basically manhandled all six foot two of him off a metal chair thing and across the apartment to drop him on a couch, and the guy didn’t even stir.

Jordie tells him he’s fine, but Jamie ends up pressing a palm to his forehead when he drapes a blanket over him, only partly satisfied that he doesn’t seem to be sick.

“Chubbs, he is fine.” Jordie’s exasperated voice calls from the hallway, making Jamie jerk backwards in surprise.

“Thought you went to bed.” Jamie mumbles, cheeks coloring in the dim light even as he snaps the lamp off to plunge the room into darkness.

“Well I was, but I wanted to make sure you kids behaved yourselves…”

“God I hate you.”

 

\------------------------2 - Jordie Benn------------------------

 

Jordie at least, takes it in stride. He after the first incident he accepts two things: that it’s just something Tyler does, and that his brother is completely head over heels gone for the energetic ball of a hockey player.

Which is why he doesn’t find it so weird to get home after a late lunch date with Jess and hears the Patriots game on TV, indicating quite clearly that Tyler’s over.

Except he knows that Jamie is at the dentist right now. He has sixty whining texts on his phone to prove it. First day off in forever, and it doesn’t surprise him at all that his little brother both forgot to tell Tyler what he was doing (the kid has hated the dentist since he first had to go) and that Tyler didn’t bother asking to come over.

Not that Jordie minds hanging out with Tyler - he’s quickly becoming the third Benn brother, and he provides actual competition when playing video games with - but Jordie was very much looking forward to finding his bed and passing out for a few hours (naps are the best, no one can tell him otherwise).

Sighing, he kicks off his shoes and drops his keys on the counter, searching the fridge for a water and debating between kicking Ty out or just letting him stay and sleeping anyway.

Turns out he isn’t really going to have to do either, (which is cool because both would’ve felt incredibly rude) because he turns around to walk into the living room, mouth open to speak...and there’s Tyler, slumped over in the Benns squishy lazy boy thing, head at an awkward angle, resting on one arm thats draped over the arms.

It’s gotta be the most uncomfortable thing ever, and Jordie considers snapping a picture of it and chirping him into the next century about it. But then he notices the dark circles under Tyler’s eyes and the light shivers he’s got going on because they keep the AC cranked and Ty’s in a t-shirt and shorts (which, so is Jordie, but both he and Jamie have a lot more meat on their bones than Tyler the Twig) and it sort of kicks every brotherly instinct he has into overdrive.

He takes caution in walking closer, although he figures with the noise he made walking in that if Tyler was going to wake up it would’ve happened then. Still, he winces when the floor squeaks as he grabs the heavy, faux fur blanket they keep over the back on the couch. Carefully stepping closer he unfolds it and draps it over Ty’s small form, making sure that is wont fall off if he shift, then snags a pillow from the couch and gently maneuvers it under his head, supporting his neck a bit more even though he’ll definitely be feeling that when he wakes up.

Tyler twitches as he stands up, making Jordie freeze for a few seconds before he’s sure that he’ll stay asleep. When he doesn’t move further, Jordie creeps out of the room. Taking one last look at the small lump of blankets, he smiles fondly, shaking his head in amusement before walking up to his own room.

 

\------------------------3 - Rich Peverley------------------------

 

Rich remembers the first time his wife met Tyler. It was a home game, and she had managed to get the kids with a babysitter to come and see him play in Boston (he didn’t know at the time, but it was the last season with the B’s). Afterwards, when he was changed and walking out of the locker room, she met him with a blinding smile and a warm hug. They had lost, and he just wanted to go home and then - well, and then something that happened rather often in Boston happened in front of her.

He remembers watching her face change, go from happy to confused to shocked to angry.

When Tyler tried to walk past her after she reached out, pulled him to the side, and said in a very serious voice (the one that Rich is forever afraid of) that “If you ever need a place to go, you come to Peverly, you got it?”

Tyler had just nodded, looking terrified and tired, and slipped away.

He never did come to Pevs. It wasn’t until they got to Dallas, until Rich got to see what Tyler was like in a locker room that liked him, that supported him, that wanted him, did he realize how caged Tyler had been on the Bruins. Only after watching him with Jamie (who Pevs did not peg as Seggys type, but hey, he isn’t about to start judging now) does he realize exactly how bad it was for the kid in Boston.

He still feels bad about it, some semblance of shame for letting something happen. He couldn’t have stopped it (another thing his wife has drilled into his head, there was nothing he could have done, there wasn’t) but watching Tyler grow as a person and be happy helped soothe the guilt.

They only talked about it once - just long enough for Pevs to try and apologize and for Tyler to tell him to shut up, it wasn’t your fault Pevs, you didn’t do anything.

“That’s the problem.” He almost said, but held his tongue, because if Tyler was moving on, then it wasn’t fair Rich to try and hold him back. He isn’t super close to Seguin either - but they shared a team, and did so for the first three years of Tyler’s career. So he does the good thing, and as soon as he finds out that the kid is part of the same trade, he shoots a text to Ty and very gently reminds him of the offer his wife made however many months before.

That said, six months later, he doesn’t expect to come home from an optional skate to find his wife in the kitchen and Tyler curled up on his couch.

“Uh.” He says, the picture of intelligence. His wife just calls a casual hello, and walks over to give him a peck on the cheek before informing him of the kids current activities. Tyler just blinks owlishly at him from under at least six blankets and a stars hoodie that’s probably Jamie's considering how big it is on him.

He manages a small smile and tosses his gear bag into the closet before following his wife back into the kitchen.

“Not to be a dick, but why is Seggy on the couch?” He asks, snagging a water bottle from the fridge to add extra casualness to his form, as to not betray how confused he is. She doesn’t even look up from the sink where’s she’s started on dishes.

“He knocked on the door two hours ago and asked if he could stay here for a little while. I obliged.” She tells him in the same tone one would use when talking about the weather.

“Why does he look like someone just shot his dog?” For a split second he wonders if that’s actually the case, but then he’s sure that Ty would be with Jamie and Jordie not him-

Suddenly a dark thought occurs to him, and as he replays Tylers reaction to him coming through the door, it feels eerily familiar. Anger swirls in his chest and he’s got his phone out and unlocked before she can grace him with a reply.

He slips through the quiet house, mumbles something about going back out to his car, and slams the call button the second he’s outside, door firmly shut behind him.

“Oh my god Pevs-”

“What did you do?!” He thunders, running over his Captains voice without a single care. “I swear to god Jamie, if you hurt him, I’ll make you wish you never stepped foot in the NHL-”

“What?! Pevs what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the scared kid who’s curled in ball on my couch right now.” He growls through gritted teeth, hand clenched in a fist so tight his knuckles are bloodless. There’s sharp intake on the other end of the line and then-

“You found him?! You found Tyler???”

“I- yeah he’s at my house?” He stammers out, thoroughly confused by the change in conversation. Although now that he thinks about it, when Jamie first came on the phone, he sounded worried out his mind, bordering on panicked.

“Oh thank god.” Jamie’s voice gets farther away, and he distantly hears him yelling to someone. When he comes back, it sounds like he’s about to cry from relief. “You have him? You have him. Okay. Good. That’s- good. Is he okay? Tell me he’s okay Pevs.”

“Yeah he’s- I mean I think so. I just got home. What happened Jamie?? Because the last time I saw that look on his face I…” He ducks his head sheepishly, even though Benn won’t see it. He’s only slightly ashamed that he thought Jamie (big, soft, caring Jamie, who actually almost cried after stepping on a ladybug) Peverly takes a deep breath, deciding to just get it out there. Rip off the bandaid.

“Listen Boston was pretty bad for him, and there wasn’t- I couldn’t do anything then, but I can now, and if you, or anyone else-”

“Wait you- you thought I hurt him?” Jamie’s voice gets all tight and screechy by the end of that, which Peverly might’ve chirped him for under literally any other circumstances, but can’t now.

“It wouldn’t be the first time a teammates done something.” Rich mutters darkly, and Jamie makes a noise that’s somewhere between shocked, angry, and horrified. “What happened? Why was- why were you looking for him?”

There’s a pause.

“He- there was- I didn’t-” Jamie cuts himself off with a growl of frustration. Pevs pinches the bridge of his nose and feels a headache starting behind his eyes.

“You know what, never mind. It’s whatever. I got him, and I’ll drive him home whenever he wants, and I’ll let you know if I lose track of him at any point.” He hesitates with his next words. “Is there...any reason I’d need to check him over? Physically?”

“No.” Jamie answers eventually. His voice sounds choked. “No I- I don’t think so. Thanks Pevs.” The call ends abruptly, and Rich is left staring at the blank screen of his phone, like the device can suddenly answer all his question and simultaneously calm his worried confusion.

“Right.” He mutters to himself. “Because this is normal.”

Walking back into the house much calmer than how he went out, he actually smiles at his wife when he hits the kitchen again.

“Get what you needed?” She asks, and he winces at the snippy tone. Something tells him that she know a little more than he does - at least about this.

(Okay, about a lot of things, but she’s his wife, it’s like part of the job description. Rich gave up trying to win after their first kid.)

“Yeah, uh...he isn’t- he’s not hurt right? like -”

“I checked him over when he came in.” She says, and her voice is softer. “It was my one condition for him staying. I wasn’t about to have him dying on my kitchen floor. I just moped.” He laughs a bit at that, and gives her a hug from behind. She snorts, but leans into him, regardless.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and he can almost imagine there isn’t a bundle of trauma and skill wrapped up as a hockey player in his living room.

“You watch out for that boy Rich.” She commands eventually, voice quiet. He nods.

“Yes ma’am.”

There’s an elbow to his gut, making him huff out a breath.

“Stop making me feel old and get in there.” She says, and he rolls a shoulder back, enjoying the slow stretch-pull of his sore muscles as he does. He hums in affirmation, and quietly makes his way to the living room.

“Hey Segs.” He says softly, and plunks down on the couch next to him. Oceans Eleven is playing on the big screen, but Tyler doesn’t seem to be watching it. If anything, Rich is pretty surprised his still awake, with the glassy, hazed-over look his eyes have.

“Tyler?” He asks when there’s no response. The younger man ducks his head a little, blinking.

“M sorry.” He mumbles, curling in on himself a little more. Pevs just blinks at him, eyes roaming up and down the pile of blankets he’s in. He looks so small and young, and Peverly is suddenly reminded that Seggy is only twenty two. Barely an adult. He sighs.

“Segs- no. Just...no. There’s nothing to apologize for. You can stay here as long as you want, okay? You aren’t a burden.”

There’s a small nod, a barely audible thanks, and then haunted eyes turn back to the screen. They stay quiet for a few moments (enough time for Pevs to really look at his younger charge, to see the pale skin and the dark circles and the slight tremor in his hands when he adjusts the blankets) and he makes a decision.

He sighs, then lifts an arm.

“Com’ere.” Tyler stares at him for a second or two, maybe testing to see if he’s serious. Peverly waves his hand, and then Segs just about dives across the couch, bringing the blankets with him. He burrows into Pevs side, and the father of two takes time to rearrange the blankets until they’re both comfortable.

Rich keeps his arm over Tyler, thumb gently moving back and forth over his shoulder, while his gaze stays firmly on the television and he pretends not to notice the shudders that shake Ty’s frame. He doesn’t ask what happened, almost doesn’t want to know, but at the same time he really, really does.

He can help Tyler this time (and he really wants to, if the surge of protective anger that happened is anything to go by).

They stay like that for a while, the movie and afternoon wearing on until Tyler breathing evens out, and his entire body relaxes further into the couch, all the tension leaving his muscles in one fluid instance. Pevs doesn’t move in inch, doesn’t dare, not when all the memories of Boston are swirling around his brain, not when the same feeling of helplessness is sitting under his skin, only kept at bay by steady breathes and soft murmurs from Tyler. He just sits, watched as Ocean’s Eleven becomes Twelve, and listen to Tyler sleep, knowing that it’s probably the first decent amount of rest he’s gotten in a while.

“It’s gonna get better Segs.” He whispers. “I promise.”

 

\------------------------4 - Patrick Sharp------------------------

 

Listen, Patrick Sharp is not an easily riled guy. He prides himself in that.

That being said, when someone messes with his sleep schedule, he cannot be held responsible for their fate afterwards.

Two AM. Two in the fucking AM, and he has a game tomorrow, someone better be dying.

Stumbling out of bed, he makes his way to the door and grabs the handle without even looking through the peephole.

Or putting on pants. But the person can deal.

Ripping the door open with a sour “What?!”, he’s met with the tear stained face of one Tyler Seguin.

Okay so maybe someone really is dying.

“Tyler?” He asks stupidly, eyes wide and anger gone. The other man is only slightly more presentable than Sharpie, what with an oversized stars sweatshirt that mostly covers his legs and that Patrick would bet money to say that there’s a number fourteen on the back.

“I- I’m sorry Sharp, I didn’t- I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can, I can go somewhere else, I’ll- I’m sorry, I’m-” Tyler launches into a tirad that’s much too fast for Patrick to comprehend at this hour, but he certainly hears the way his voice wavers and cracks (and the way he sounds like he’s apologizing to someone else, but that’s none of his business).

“Jesus Segs-” He whisper yells, grabbing the other mans arm and yanking him into his hotel room. The door shuts loudly behind him, Tyler flinching in his grip but allowing himself to be steered to the bed.

“Sit.” He orders, and Tyler does, a look of pure devastation on his face. Patrick clicks the lamp on, flinching a bit at the brightness, then drags the chair from the desk around to sit across from him.

It’s quiet, Tyler just staring at nothing for a while. He considers waiting him out, but they both have to be downstairs for team breakfast in five hours, so they really don’t have all night. He reaches out and puts a hand on Tylers knee, careful and ready for the jolt that comes with being startled.

“Seggy?” He whispers once the kids eyes float to his face. It seems to snap Tyler back to the present at least, and he shrinks in on himself, hunching over while diverting his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Tyler says, voice small. “I didn’t- I didn’t know who else to- I can leave if you want.”

And while Patrick’s groggy mind is very attracted to the idea of getting to go back to bed, he doesn’t know what Segs will do if he kicks him out. Tyler is skittish as it is, nearly terrified, and very much looks like he actually expects Sharp to throw him out of his room.

Which is...disconcerting, to say the least. Tyler shifts in the silence, arms wrapped around his midsection as he studies the floor, and Patrick speaks, keeping his voice low and soothing, like he’s talking to a wounded animal.

“I don’t want you to leave, Segs. I want to know you’re okay.” Which is pretty stupid thing to say, because Tyler's obviously not okay, but Pat is so far out of his depth here it’s embarrassing. Tyler is bouncing ball of energy, a beacon of light in the locker room even after the hardest losses. He’s almost never seen the guys look down, and the few times he had it was like a signal to the team that things were bad.

But Jamie always fixed it. He always did, and if he couldn’t, then he combined forces with Jordie, and if that didn’t work, then half the team would do...something that Sharp wasn’t privy to and then Tyler would be fine the next and life would go on.

Patrick didn’t need anyone to tell him that Tyler and Jamie were together. He got that real quick. So seeing as it’s a roadie, and it’s a god awful hour of morning, and Tyler is here instead of with his captain and looks this upset… well, two plus two is four.

Tyler just blinks at him. Sharpie takes a breath.

“You- okay physically, are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere?” He clarifies, and Tyler just shakes his head, looking very content to stay mute.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Another shake. He sighs.

“Segs I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“Can I…” He glances at the other empty bed. “Can I sleep here?” And Patricks already nodding.

“Yeah of course Seggy.” He motions towards the beds, but instead of Tyler climbing to the other one like he expects him too, the centerman slides back the already mussed bed and slips under the covers. Patrick freezes, staring at him with his hand hovering over the switch for the lamp. After a few seconds Tyler’s head pokes out from the huge hotel comforter, tired eyes blinking owlishly at the veteran.

“Um.”

“Do you want me to move?” Ty asks, and his voice sounds so weak and fragile that Sharpie wonders if that’s a much heavier question that the words would imply.

“Uh, no, no I was just- just surprised I mean-” He stops, sighing. “Tyler...why did you come to me?” ‘You don’t even know me’ gets left unsaid.

There’s a sluggish blink.

“I thought I could trust you.”

He hears the don’t tell anyone and decides that he can deal with this for one night.

He clicks off the lamp and climbs under the sheets and forces himself not to think about how very awkward this should be but isn’t, and makes himself relax even as Tyler shuffles close enough to be classified as snuggling with him.

“I’m sorry Sharpie.” Tyler slurs into his shoulder, already half asleep, clearly exhausted from whatever happened. It sends a real, physical pain shooting through his chest at the brokenness of his voice.

“Go to sleep Segs.” Sharp whispers into the darkness, and barely a few seconds later he feels Tylers breathing even out.

Patrick lays awake for a while longer, staring at the ceiling while listening to Tyler breath, letting himself make soft shushing noise whenever the younger man started to get restless. He stays awake, tense but loose at the same time, fighting through option after option on how to play what will surely be a hellish morning,

He wonders what would’ve happened if he didn’t open the door.

 

\------------------------5 - Jamie------------------------

 

The lump in the bed doesn’t move in the slightest when Jamie slips into the bedroom. He uses the light on his phone to make it to the bathroom without tripping over anything, and then shuts the door as quietly as possible before turning on the light (he isn’t about to attempt peeing by the light of his phone thank you very much).

He’s does his business and brushes his teeth and turns the light off again, opening the the door. It’s when he steps back onto the carpet with socked feet that he stops.

Tyler must’ve gotten overheated in the few minutes he took in the bathroom, because he’s brought both his arms out from under the comforter and flipped on his back. His head is tilted to the side, one arm flopped on the pillow next to him and the other reaching to the empty side of the bed, hands limp.

The moon shines in through one of the windows, (because of course Tyler forgot to pull the shades before going to bed) and it casts a soft glow throughout the room, illuminating Tyler's face and outlining the soft, lax features of his face.

Jamie stares, breath caught in his throat and chest tight.

He almost lost this. He came so close to losing him. Losing all of it (the dorky glasses and star trek quotes in the morning, the horrible chirps about his hair, the bright toothy grins that make his nose crinkle and his eyes light up) and all because of something so stupid.

‘It’s over.’ He reminds himself. ‘He’s here, you still have him.’

It takes Jamie a few second to shimmy off his clothes, and he slips under the covers with a grateful sigh; sidling up to Tyler and grinning when he rolls over in his sleep, murmuring little nothings as he tucks himself into Jamie’s side.

“I love you.” He whispers before pressing a kiss to Tylers hair. He shifts a bit to get comfortable and falls asleep with his boyfriend wrapped contently in his arms.

 

\----------------------+1, Tyler------------------------

 

Tyler never saw the hit coming. Honestly. One second he had the puck, skating around the back of his own goal, getting ready to pass it forward to Jamie or Jordie or whoever happens to be open on the other side.

The next second everything was really loud and bright, and something was happening directly over him. His head hurt really bad though, and then something - a skate maybe - was slamming into his helmet. He shut his eyes against the pain-

-and woke up to much dimmer lighting and almost no noise, which is fantastic, because thinking is so much easier and his head pounds in a way that tells him of a concussion, but isn’t so bad that he thinks he’s really fucked up.

Until he opens his eyes and finds that not only is he in a hospital room wearing a hospital gown with a very hospital like IV and heartmoniter situation going on - but what looks like half the team is crowded around him.

Klingberg and Rous are crunched together on a tiny couch along the right wall. Kari is passed out in a very uncomfortable looking chair in the corner, a Stars beanie pulled low over his face. Fidds probably got smart and asked for the cot he’s sitting on, leaning back against the wall opposite Tyler with his legs kicked out and arms crossed across his chest. Val is actually laying down the tiny moveable bed, curled in a ball with his head on Verns leg, and Daddy is sitting on floor, using the edge of the cot’s mattress as a pillow. To his left, Jordie and Jamie are sitting as close his bed as humanly possible. The former is mirroring Kari in position, just minus the hat and add a Jamie. The Stars captain is smushed into his brothers side, head leaned back onto Jordie’s shoulder, black hood of his sweatshirt pullup.

Pevs is, ironically, the only one actually awake, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze pinned on Tyler. Which means he definitely saw the centerman blush as his eyes landed on the relaxed form of his- whatever Jamie is. His. Jamie’s just his.

And damn it if he doesn’t look fucking adorable when he’s asleep.

“He freaked out you know.” Pevs says quietly, nodding to the two Benns that are at his side, dead to the world. “They both did. Jordie did a better job of hiding it, but the C was...he couldn’t focus whole rest of the game. I think we only won because Rouss and Klingberg went into maximum overdrive just out of spite.”

“They’re okay?” Tyler says, then frowns at the slur in his voice and moves his tongue around his mouth, marveling quietly as the way it feels.

“They’re fine Seggy.” Peverly responds, concern plain on his face as he says, “You went down hard Ty. And then the team basically fought on top of you- I think if Jamie wasn’t so worried he would’ve screamed at us longer for that.”

Tyler raises an eyebrow.

“Chubbs? Screaming?” Pevs shrugs.

“It was pretty close. And sort of terrifying.” He smirks. “You should have seen the boys on the ice though. I’ve never seen Jordie that angry. Or Demers.”

“They fight?” Tyler ask, eyes getting heavy already, but disbelief (Jordie fights as much as Tyler does, which is to say not ever) keeps him awake a while longer. Peverly nods, and his eyes soften.

“You scared us Segs. I thought- I think we all thought- and you didn’t move, not even when they took you off.” There’s a pause. “I keep thinking about Bergy.”

Tylers throat closes a little bit, being reminded of Patrice’s trip into the boards.

“He almost died.” The words pass Tyler’s lips before he can stop them, and he regrets them instantly after watching Pevs face twist in pain. “Sorry.” He mumbles, blinking slow. He doesn’t want Rich to worry about him - he’s thinking pretty okay, even though he’s tired, but it doesn’t hurt to bad right now and all his thoughts are in a semblance of order - he knows this isn’t as bad as Bergeron. If he’s lucky, it’ll clear up before they play Boston again, but then he thinks about the fear that’s hiding in plain sight in Pevs, the worry that was enough to get a third of his teammates to stay in his hospital room so long they pass out, and thinks maybe-

Well, maybe he’s used his luck.

“It’s okay Ty.” Pevs is whispering now. He pushes off from the wall, walking forward, but his eyes loose track of him after that. It takes a few seconds to realize that’s because his eye have drifted close.

Sleep is wrapping thick dark tendrils around his brain, pulling him deeper into it’s embrace, but before he succumbs to the depth of unconsciousness, he feels a warm palm brush across his forehead, pushing his hair back.

Pevs says something - something about being okay and getting some rest - and then the warmth of his hand combines with the warmth in his veins (the kind that comes from being wanted, from being cared for) and sends him into oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes? No? It's my first time in this fandom, idk what I'm doing tbh. Lemme know what you thought!!


End file.
